


Colour: Yellow

by siobhrag



Series: The Colours [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sad and Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siobhrag/pseuds/siobhrag
Summary: Sirius needed to feel better, warmer. There was just only one place where he could feel like that, and only one person who could make him feel that.
Relationships: Sirius Black/James Potter
Series: The Colours [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882474
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Colour: Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed.
> 
> Requested by Jainleen.
> 
> That was the first time I wrote this paring. It was a bit tough to make it work with all the canon traps. I hope it’s the way you wanted this story to be.

Maybe he wasn’t home, after all. 

Sirius looked up longingly at the windows of James’ flat. He tried everything – ringing the door, shooting sparks at the windows, and even throwing gravel bits at them. He had hoped that James was just asleep, or was listening to the music through those weird Muggle devices for ears. But it seemed he really wasn’t home.

_Where the hell are you, James? I need you._

Sirius kicked an empty beer can. It hissed at him, turned into a weird looking lizard and scuttled away. The day was coming to its end; the already low evening sun was ready to drop down any moment now. Sirius hoped he might spend this night at James’; he didn’t want to stay at the Leaky Cauldron again. 

The weather was getting breezy; the summer was nearing its end, and those last days weren’t as warm and sunny as they’ve been before. 

Sirius had no other place to go to. Well, he had, but he would rather sleep on the street than go back to _that house_. He couldn’t even bring himself to call it home. The place was getting worse by the minute – with his mother becoming more and more insane, and his brother distant and secretive. He was suffocating in that place; it was like slugging through the tar; everything there was dark, dank and miserable. 

Sirius knew that he could always go and live with James’ parents, like he did for two summers when he was still at Hogwarts. But somehow he didn’t feel comfortable to intrude on them when James wasn’t living there anymore. He understood that Euphemia and Fleamont would always welcome him as his son’s best friend. But that was just it – he wasn’t _just_ a friend, he was more than that, and he didn’t want to lie to an elderly couple who treated him like their son. 

Sirius looked up at James’ windows again. There was no point hanging around the place, but Sirius just couldn’t make himself go away.

_Come on, James. Come back._

James’ place was really the only place where Sirius could feel like himself; could feel good, needed and appreciated. Well, maybe not James’ places itself, but any place where James was. The Potters’ house, James’ Head Boy room at Hogwarts - anywhere really, as long as James was there. 

With the last longing look at James’ windows Sirius turned to go away. He didn’t know where, just somewhere. 

And then someone grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, Padfoot! Leaving already?” 

Sirius whirled in place, almost losing his balance. James was standing behind him, his arms full of boxes and packages, his hazel eyes smiling warmly. 

“James.” Sirius smiled back, and exhaled in relief. The moment he saw those familiar eyes and smile he forgot all his worries. Something must have shown on his face, as James’ expression turned worried. “Something happened?”

Sirius shook his head. “No, I just... I just wanted to see you.” He moved his hand as if he wanted to touch James’ robe sleeve, but halted the movement and put his hand awkwardly in his pocket. He looked around surreptitiously. The alley where James’ apartment building stood wasn’t a bustling one, but there were still a few people around.

James understood everything. Slinging his arm around Sirius’ shoulder he turned him around and guided him to the building. “Come on, let’s go up. I’ve got some butterbeer.” James wiggled one of the packages and the bottles clinked softly. 

“Yeah, sure.” James arm was so warm, even through the layers of clothes. Sirius was almost touching the side of James’ body.  
James’ flat was on the top floor – from the outside it seemed that building had only three stories. But the spectacular view from James’ living room suggested that they were way higher than that.

Sirius loved this apartment. Sometimes he even thought about it as theirs. It didn’t have much of an interior, and the living room was too grand a name for that particular room, but it was cosy. On any day Sirius would choose the faded curtains and the scuffed wooden floors over the dark splendour of the Grimmauld. He knew perfectly well why James rented it, and that it would disappear from his, their lives, after the big and splendid event of two families being united. But they could enjoy it now, and that was all that mattered. 

They tumbled in through the narrow doorway. Sirius suddenly felt hesitant. He’s been to James’ flat countless times, why was he feeling like that now? 

James squeezed his shoulder gently. “Go get comfortable. I’ll bring the beer.” Sirius nodded. He squeezed through the narrow corridor averting his eyes from James’ wedding dress robes which were hanging on the door of an old wardrobe. Those things didn’t exist here – their parents, their families, their obligations, Lily – it all belonged to the outside world; here was their tiny, cosy place to be together. 

Sirius tugged off his robe and sat on the battered sofa. It was right in front of the window and allowed the spectacular view of London, both Muggle and Wizarding. Just at that moment the plunging sun peeked out from behind the lone cloud and immersed the room into the bright yellow fire. The pitiful curtains became gold, and the scuffed floors got back their previously lush and warm colour of freshly lacquered wood. 

Sirius was staring at this marvel with wide eyes. Then James walked into the room and stood right in front of him. His figure was instantly flooded by the yellow sunlight; it glistened on James’ glasses, making him squint. He was holding out a bottle to Sirius.

Sirius couldn’t tear his eyes away from James’ sun-lit face. He took the offered bottle absentmindedly. James sat near Sirius, not leaving even an inch of space between them. They both took unhurried sips from their bottles. They didn’t look at each other; but they didn’t need to. 

In a moment James slung his arm along the sofa’s back. In a practised movement Sirius slouched and leaned into James’ side; James’ arm slowly slid down to hold Sirius around his back. Sirius turned his head a bit and pressed his face into the crock of James’ neck. And James pressed his cheek to Sirius’ forehead. Their movements were almost unconscious. 

James’ left out his robe somewhere in the kitchen. His Sex Pistols t-shirt rode up a bit, and Sirius could see a tiny patch of golden skin. Sirius slowly moved his hand. He knew that James was watching his movement, but he wouldn’t protest. They both needed that.

Sirius’ fingers slid over James’ skin and dipped under the hem of his t-shirt. His whole hand was now resting atop James’ taut belly. It was so warm; Sirius could feel the warmth seep into his skin, warming him from the inside. He felt James’ hand move in almost the same manner over his back – dipping under his rumpled shirt and splaying over the small of his back. 

Sirius was anchored between those two points of warmth. It was exactly what he needed. Here, with James, he could forget everything, pretend that his life was perfect, even if for a moment. He could watch the sun go down and relish in the warmth of James’ body. If he could, he would have stayed like this forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone/anyone - some help with the tags for this story, please? I'm at loss.


End file.
